


the naked eye

by PurificoDive



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Post-Game, gavin's fingers are inside connor but not for the reason you might think, i am... admittedly... not good at tech jargon, please let me know if anything additional needs tagging!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 13:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19085695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurificoDive/pseuds/PurificoDive
Summary: Written as part of the Convin Challenge — Day 10; “Scars.”Connor gets injured on a mission, Gavin’s there to fix him up and finds out something he wishes he'd known earlier.





	the naked eye

**Author's Note:**

> can androids scar? i’m assuming that they can. just go with it.
> 
> also, fun fact: the first line of this fic was originally part of a fic where gavin walks into the break room to find hank and connor goin’ at it and he just kind of… watches them.

Gavin sees them by accident. Kind of.

He always assumed the first time he’d see Connor naked would be under... Different circumstances, he’ll admit.

The locker room at the DPD station? Sure, Gavin’s up for a bit of excitement.

Stripping Connor’s blazer and shirt off? Fuck yeah, he loves the feeling of Connor’s synthetic skin.

But, being mindful of the exposed wiring beneath the shirt?

Of the blue blood that pools around the open circuits?

Those aspects don’t really fit into Gavin’s daydreams.

He lets his mind back itself up a little while he opens up the repair kit with one hand, the other clasped in Connor’s grip; he needs to calm himself down. One of them has to be calm for this, and he’s sure it isn’t going to be Connor, judging by the consistent red of his LED.

Anderson and Connor got called out on a gritty as fuck case seven hours ago. Gavin’s been on desk duty — because he’s fucking _great_ at his job, actually, so _fuck you, Hank_ — tapping his pen on the fucking desktop just _waiting_ for Connor to get in contact.

If he’d told himself this time last year that he’d fall head over fucking heels for _anyone_ , let alone fucking _Connor, the Android sent by motherfuckin’ Cyberlife_ , he’d have told himself just where he could shove that idea.

In any case, that’s _exactly_ what happened. Hank likes to tell him that he’d been acting like the school bully with a goddamn crush; Gavin likes to tell _him_ to shove off.

Initially, Gavin had planned out an apology. He knew how much of a prick he’d been, so he’d made a plan. He’d planned out a place. A time was set.

He didn’t want to fuck it up.

He’d fucked it up the next morning, when Connor walked into work that day. Gavin had taken one look at him, flushed up to his ears and, very loudly, asked the whole precinct, “ _what the actual fuck?!_ ”

Then, Connor had confronted him in the break room.

Looked at Gavin with those _goddamn_ eyes, and had the gall to ask how he’d offended Gavin _this time_.

And that had been the _exact_ moment Gavin had fucked up his plan, since the next words out of his mouth were, “ _you’re so fucking cute_ and _you can kick my fucking ass into next week. What the fuck?_

He remembers, now, the way Connor stood in the entrance of the break room, his _stupid_ LED spinning a constant yellow as he processed the words. Gavin remembers, vividly, the way Connor’s _stupid_ brown eyes lit up, the _goddamn_ goofy grin that anyone else would describe as looking slightly deranged; at the time, the only thing Gavin could think was _holy shit, he’s smiling and it’s aimed at_ me _, what the f—_

“Gav—”

The static-ridden call of his name and the weak but firm grip on his hand bring him back.

Shit.

Connor.

Right.

Connor doesn’t look anything other than content, with a hand in Gavin’s while the detective kneels in front of the bench. Gavin doesn’t know how long he’s been sat with one hand on the repair kit, staring at the hole in Connor’s chest.

“Right, sorry,” Gavin breathes out, looking into Connor’s eyes for the first time since they’ve been sat here. He makes a nod towards the exposed wiring and blue blood as he speaks, “does it hurt?”

“As you’ll recall, Detective, androids don’t feel pain,” Connor replies, the static still lining his voice, without missing a beat.

“You know what I fucking mean, asshole.”

“I was hoping to make you smile.”

Gavin chokes.

* * *

 

Gavin knows the basics of fixing up androids. 

It’s a skill he’s never had to showcase until now; but he knows the ways their wires and components fit together.

Fixing Connor up isn’t as bad as it looks. As Gavin cleans the area, it’s obvious that the thirium pooled around the small wound.

He talks Connor through what he’s doing as he pries his hand free from the android’s grip to poke around inside the wound. It’s nowhere near a dangerous injury, not by any means; however, as Connor informed him when he and Hank arrived back, it damaged his self-repair component.

“The wires aren’t damaged; looks like the bullet just went _straight_ for the component itself,” he utters, only really speaking through his process to give Connor something new to focus on. Connor probably already knows everything wrong with him and what needs to be done to fix it.

The repair kit to Gavin’s left is bulky, and looks more like a tool box than a first-aid kit. It’s stocked full of enough of Connor’s smaller and easier to procure components, with permission for them granted given Connor’s job. Gavin grimaces as he finds one of the spare self-repair components, flipping the repair kit back to the tools when he pulls it from the box. He puts the component carefully on the floor, between his knees, as he brings up a hand to rest to the left of Connor’s abdomen to hold him in place, while his other hand reaches inside the thirium-soaked wound to locate and pull the damaged part out.

Gavin fucking _hates_ the feeling. He hopes Connor isn’t into this.

He finds it easily enough, feeling the bullet before anything else. It’s lodged into the part itself, so Gavin bites his bottom lip as he feels around, feeling sick to his stomach.

“God, this is so fucking gross,” he’s complaining, if only to convey to Connor that he doesn’t _really_ mind.

“Apologies, Detective; I’d complete the procedure myself, but it seems the impact is causing disruption to the functions of my arms.” Gavin’s eyes dart quickly to Connor’s hands, seeing the slight tremble, before his eyes go back to the matter at hand. In a human, it would be classified as nerve damage. Gavin clicks his tongue.

“Don’t apologise for shit like this.”

Gavin pulls, eliciting a gasp from Connor as the component dislodges, removing his hand from the equivalent of Connor’s guts and tossing the broken part over his shoulder. He hears it clatter, but he doesn’t care. His hand is covered in thirium and Gavin knows he’ll throw up as soon as he’s alone.

He cleans off his hands on his shirt, eyes finding different parts of Connor’s top half. It’s a question he’ll bring up later. When this damned component is in and Connor’s self-repair kicks in to seal the bullet wound closed.

“Okay, time to fit this bad boy in. It can fix you and I can bleach my hands.”

“Bleach will burn your skin.”

“Yeah, it’s a joke.”

“Not a very funny one.”

“Oh, wha’d’you know?”

The new component fits in with absolutely no trouble at all, clicking into place in barely five seconds.

Gavin assumes it solves whatever problems Connor was having with his android-nerves; seconds after the component is in place, a hand curls around Gavin’s forearm, fingers digging into his skin. He looks up to find Connor’s LED flicking between yellow and red.

Gavin’s hand is free of Connor’s abdomen, and he watches in wonder as the wound starts to stitch itself closed. He’s torn between watching the self-repairing unit, or Connor himself, so his eyes flick back and forth.

Connor looks uncomfortable, even though Gavin knows it shouldn’t be causing the android pain. Apparently, the repair doesn’t take long, since there’s nothing but a small memory of the entry point the next time Gavin looks down.

“How is Hank?”

Gavin almost laughs, “are you fuckin’ serious?”

“Of course; the Lieutenant is my partner, his safety is one of my top priorities.”

Gavin sighs.

“Anderson’s fine. Fractured wrist,” Gavin occupies himself by tidying up the area he’s been working in. It _looks_ like a murder has taken place, with all the blue blood lining the floor. Gavin is sure he can see some splatters on the far wall.

What the fuck?

* * *

 

Gavin’s places his hands on Connor’s shoulders to keep him sat on the bench. The fucker’s been trying to put his torn and bloody shirt back on while Gavin tidied the room. He’d even brought the goddamn _mop_ in. It’s only when he’s put the mop back that he remembers that thirium evaporates after a certain amount of time. 

Fuck.

Anyway.

“We’re not done yet.” He stands in front of Connor, moving his hands from Connor’s shoulders. One comes to press against the back of Connor’s neck, the other in the back of his hair. Connor doesn’t speak for a few moments, forehead pressed against Gavin’s sternum.

“Detective?”

“What the _fuck_ , Connor?”

Connor makes a small sound, a questioning hum. The static in his voice is receding, now that his repair is finished. Gavin speaks again before Connor can even attempt to speak.

“I get that you wanna protect Hank, but _fucking christ_ —” His voice _doesn’t_ break. Fuck you. “— you can still bleed out, dumbass; you’re fucking lucky I decided not to go home on time!”

“Detective, I—”

“No! Don’t _Detective_ me!”

Gavin takes a step back, raking his hands through his hair and scrubbing them down his face.

“Whatever,” he says, clenching and unclenching his hands, taking deep breaths. “That’s not what I need to talk to you about; Hank’ll rip you a new one about _this_ when he’s patched up.” Looking out of the corner of his eye, he sees Connor’s head tilt. He decides to clarify. “I’ll cut to it, Con — androids don’t fucking scar, so what the fuck is your entire top half?!”

He’s been ignoring the parts of Connor’s skin that contrast the rest of him in favour of fixing the damaged component. It doesn’t mean that each and every single one isn’t burned into Gavin’s mind.

The first one that caught his eye seemed to wrap around the whole of Connor’s bicep.

The second and third are on Connor’s side; Gavin’s fingers had grazed against them when he’d held Connor’s abdomen.

The fourth is _on_ Connor’s abdomen — right where Gavin’s palm had been.

The sixth is around the edges of Connor’s thirium pump regulator is located.

Now, there’s a new one.

The seventh is the area that just finished repairing itself.

He looks at Connor, finally.

Connor’s expression is troubled, his LED a solid red.

Gavin decides to focus on his breathing in favour of letting Connor process.

“I—” He hears Connor swallow, which is bullshit, since Connor doesn’t _need_ to. “I’m not sure you’d understand.” Connor’s LED is still a solid red, spinning into yellow for a split second before his head snaps up and finds Gavin’s eyes. “Not—!” Gavin watches him pull the coin out of his pocket, running it along the backs of his knuckles.

Gavin _has_ managed to get used to the way Connor works, after two months or so. He’s not counting. Sixty-five days, fourteen hours, _thank you very fucking much_. He knows that Connor needs additional time to process sometimes, and he knows that the coin Connor carries helps him with that. Gavin has had enough threatening looks from Hank from across the room. He’s learned.

Instead, Gavin shrugs off his jacket and hangs it around Connor’s shoulders. Then, he sits on the bench, resting the back of his head against the wall.

It takes Connor a while, but eventually, he sits by Gavin on the bench.

“It’s hard to explain, and it would be easier if I were capable of interfacing with you,” Connor frowns, and Gavin smirks at the kicked puppy tone of Connor’s voice. He offers a nod and lets the android continue. “As you know… _Before_ , I was dispensable. Cyberlife was capable of replacing me in the blink of an eye, if they wished it.” Connor takes a breath; he doesn’t need to, but Gavin assumes it’s to help organise his thoughts. “My mission was the most important thing — she made sure I knew that. If I were to… Break…” Connor’s voice cracks, a static hitch. “Then I could easily be… Changed out for a different… Connor.”

Gavin nods slowly, showing Connor that he’s listening.

A self-deprecating smile takes over Connor’s expression. “Each time I was replaced, I was… Flawless, once more. It didn’t bother me, for a while, and then—”

“You became deviant?”

A nod.

“It… _Felt_ incredibly strange,” he forces his eyes to meet Gavin’s. “I’d been through all of these… Experiences—” _Deaths_ , Gavin hears. “— and there was no… No _evidence_ —” Gavin can see where this is going, now. “I didn’t want to pretend to be this— this _Connor_ that’s seen nothing and been through nothing.”

“You want to remember what you’ve been through?” Gavin takes a shot in the dark, holding a hand out in Connor’s direction. It’s taken in an instant.

“Hank has scars; you have scars,” Connor closes his eyes. “It’s just…” He nods. “I don’t want to erase all that they did, in order for me to be here today.”

Gavin lets the silence settle over them, bringing up his other hand to loop around Connor’s shoulders and pull him closer.

“You fuckin’ idiot,” is what he whispers, pressing his forehead to Connor’s temple. “I get it, Con, I do. You wanna tell a story through them, but you really shouldn’t have—”

“It isn’t as though it hurts.”

“That’s not the goddamn point.” He sighs. “And you _know_ that.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.”

“In whatever case, Detective—”

“For fucks sake, _Connor_.”

“ _Gavin_ , my apologies.”

Gavin huffs out a laugh. “Fuckin’ android.”

“I love you too.”

Wait.

“Wait.”

“I’ve determined through our interactions over the past five months that your terms of endearment are often delivered in the form of insults,” Connor’s head does that _fucking_ thing where it tilts to the side. “Lieutenant Anderson seemed enthusiastic about it, when I brought it up with him.”

“ _Shut the front door_ —” He pulls on Connor’s ear slightly. “Are you trying to fuckin’ distract me?”

“Is it working?” His _fucking eyes_ twinkle.

Fuck this fucking android and his fucking adorable mannerisms.

“I fucking hate you.”

“I love you too, Gavin!”

“Yeah? Well, you’re talking to Hank when he calls.”

The way Connor’s face falls is totally worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, i'm open to constructive criticism! 
> 
> join me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/rk80085); i love meeting new people!


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